


The Proposal

by eris_of_imladris



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris_of_imladris/pseuds/eris_of_imladris
Summary: A look at how Feanor and Nerdanel became engaged.Written for NaNoWriMo 2017.





	The Proposal

This day would be different from every other day in his life so far, for on this day, he would finally ask the elleth he loved to become his wife. It was not going to be a grand court production like his father’s proposal to Indis, which had involved a great many nobles and fancy outfits, but rather, this would involve a simple moment between himself and Nerdanel in the forge where they had met, adjacent to her sculpting studio.

He had it all planned out. He had mined the gem himself that he put in her betrothal ring, and he had spent a great deal of time crafting it. Even though he thought Mahtan must have known what he was up to, the elder smith had not stopped him, and had even encouraged him to keep going when he found a flaw in the metal. He kept trying, and finally, he had a ring that contained a reddish yellow gem that glowed with life, glowed the way he felt about her, and he couldn’t wait to give it to her.

He would give it to her in the middle of the day, when she usually came by and brought water for the apprentices. He was a senior apprentice now, and in fact almost done with his apprenticeship, and so he was closer to the door where she would enter. He was closer to the area where she would find him, and then they would speak of sweet nothings until he would ask what she thought of his latest work. He would show her the ring then, and drop to one knee for her, and he hoped with everything in him that she would say yes.

It was strange, he knew, to wed so early in his life, before his apprenticeship was done (although that seemed to be a matter of months rather than years, if he was reading Mahtan right). It was an oddity, but it would hardly be the first one in his life. He seemed to always be doing things weirdly, from the moment that he didn’t have a mother to bring him up, and he knew there was no hope of him ever living a normal life considering who was supposed to be part of his family. His only hope now was to try to figure out a way to live with Nerdanel, which would make him finally feel happy. He dreamed of her face at night and he woke with the feeling of her lips on his, even with their few experimentations, he knew what she felt like in his arms, and he wanted to feel a great deal more. And he couldn’t deny that it brought him satisfaction to have the others looking at him and whispering, seeing his happiness as some kind of flaw because Nerdanel was not a noblewoman, let alone a princess. But she was the princess of his heart, and that was all that mattered.

He loved the red in her hair, the copper strands she usually held in a leather thong while she worked. He loved the way she spoke to him, just one person to another, rather than trying to impress him because he was born to an impressive father. She spoke to him like she loved him, and she understood his side of their family conflict, and even though she occasionally told him to be patient with his half-siblings, she never pushed him too far in that way. She did push him in the smithy, but that was amazing, and he loved having an audience to work for, someone to show off his accomplishments and try to do something he had never done before. This ring alone had taken him months, and he worked hard to keep it hidden from her, to try to hide it even from his thoughts, for her wisdom often meant she could read what was going on in his mind.

There was no hope of ever finding anyone else to love him. If she professed her love for another, or declared that she had no interest in being his wife, even if it was for political reasons, his heart would be broken beyond repair. She was the one who had knitted his heart back together after all his family had done to break it, and the fact that even his father knew and approved of the potential betrothal meant that there would be little challenge from him.

He had asked his father on a rare occasion when he found him alone, and Finwë had asked him many questions about Nerdanel, enough that Fëanor had snapped and exclaimed that there was a reason he loved her above all others. This simple exertion had convinced his father, and now all he had to do was convince Nerdanel, and perhaps Mahtan.

He knew the smith knew of the ring, but did he know it was meant for his daughter? It could have been for a princess of the Vanyar like Indis wanted him to wed, but he would rather distance himself entirely from his father before he succumbed to following a wish of Indis’s like that. It was painful to even think of doing anything like that, especially since the mere thought of Nerdanel set his brain and heart on fire. He was in love with her in every way, fëa and hroa together, and his heart skipped a beat as she entered the forge with a copper jug in her hands.

She held it aloft as she looked around the room, seeking Fëanor, and when she found him, she smiled widely. He held onto the ring with clammy hands, rubbing the stone back and forth in his pocket. He hoped he had done it well, that she wouldn’t look at it and see the myriad of flaws he had seen at every step of the project. Nothing could be good enough for his Nerdanel, nor could he ever hope to surpass her level of craft, but he had made this for her, and he hoped that would be enough.

“Fëanor,” she said with a smile, putting the jug down and kissing him lightly on the cheek after looking around to make sure her father wasn’t there.

“I need to ask you about something,” he said. “Will you follow me?”

Nerdanel chuckled, but she followed Fëanor past the line of smiths still working and approached the edge of the room, away from the hammers pounding on anvils. Once they could hear each other properly, Fëanor said, “I was wondering if you would give me your opinion on a project I’ve been working on lately. Would you be willing to help me?”

“You’re a better smith than I,” Nerdanel said, “but I can try to help, if you wish.”

“I want to know what you think of this project. I’ve been working on it for a very long time, and I think it is almost done, and only needs one final step. I need input on that.”

“Design, I can help with, especially if it’s more of a sculpting perspective,” Nerdanel said. When he didn’t immediately bring anything out, she asked, “So, what is it?”

He slid his hand out of his pocket, and the ring glittered in the light of the forge that was stoked high. He had tried to make it perfect, and before she got here, he had even tested it in different areas of the forge, bringing the ring out to see where it would have the most visual impact. Nerdanel gasped and ran a finger over the gem.

“It looks alive,” she said. “It looks like you gave life to this gem.”

“Thank you,” he said, trying to wonder how to segue from this into the proposal.

“I don’t think this needs anything more,” she said, taking the ring out of his clammy hands and holding it up to a nearby lamp, trying to see if there was anything she could do to see it better. “I don’t think I see a single flaw; what are you trying to do with it? You said there was a final step?”

There was nothing else he could do in the middle. He took his left foot and slid it behind his right, sinking into a bow before her. “There is one final step,” he said. “I need to know if the intended recipient wants it, and if she would consent to be my bride for all the ages of this world.”

Nerdanel was silent for a long moment, a moment in which his heart pounded like the hammer of the nearest apprentice, who seemed to be working extra hard to try to impress him. Then, a great smile broke over her face, and she threw herself into his arms, toppling him over until they both lay on the dusty floor, him on his back, her on top of him, kissing him in a way that brought thoughts to mind that her father would most definitely not approve of.

“It’s a yes, you silly man,” she said, nuzzling her nose against his. “I love you.” He took a deep, relieved breath. “Were you scared? Truly?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I don’t want to know what life is like without you, now that I’ve had so many happy times with you. I don’t think I can make it alone.”

“Me neither,” she said. “And this ring is absolutely gorgeous! I’ve never seen a stone like this in the forge, wherever did you get it?”

“I found it on one of my mining excursions,” he said. “And here you thought they were silly, and others could do that,” he teased. He was gradually feeling more like himself, especially when Nerdanel slid the gold band on her hand, looking at the gem radiating off of her skin.

“I stand corrected,” she giggled, then got more serious. “It’s a very unique piece, and it’s so much like you that I would know it even without the maker’s mark.” Turning it around, she saw the little rune that marked his work on the underside. “I would be so proud to wear this – and I guarantee it’s finer than anything belonging to any of the noblewomen of Tirion.”

“You are finer than any of the noblewomen of Tirion,” Fëanor said, kissing her nose lightly, “for you have a mind and you are not afraid to speak it, my dear Istarnië.” The name came to him out of nowhere, but looking into her eyes, he saw a great deal of wisdom, and couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen it before. There was no appeal or lure to anything else or anyone else, not when her red hair and her green eyes existed, not when those eyes looked at him as if they were both analyzing him and making love to him in the same move.

“Wise woman? I like it,” she said with a smile.

“My Istarnië,” he said softly, taking a moment to rise to his feet before offering her his hand. She stood, and they continued to hold hands and look into each other’s eyes. “I love you more than anyone else in this entire world, and it would be a great privilege for me to have you as my wife.”

“I’m not exactly getting a bad bargain, either,” Nerdanel said, squeezing his hand. “I am getting the most talented smith in all of Valinor, and a prince – and the most caring, kind, affectionate ellon I have ever met, and ever plan to meet. You are absolutely extraordinary, and I will be proud to call you my husband.” She paused. “Have you spoken to our fathers?”

“My father approves of the match, although I took special care to not ask Indis,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to bring her into this moment. “And I have not yet spoken to your father, but he helped me take some of the flaws out of the ring, and I think he knows that I intended it for you.”

“We should tell him,” she said, and he nodded his agreement. “Do you have a few moments? We can try asking him now, I think he’s in my studio. I had asked him to look at one of the new statues I was working on; I’m having a little trouble with the nose.”

“Maybe I can come by on the pretense of helping,” he said.

“And maybe you can actually help,” she replied with another squeeze to his hand. “Now, let’s go, we can’t let the junior apprentices run things. They’ll explode Atar’s entire forge into bits, and us inside it.”

“That would not be good,” Fëanor said with a slight chuckle in his voice, and the pair left on their way to go to the back forge where Mahtan worked when his apprentices kept an eye on the front.

Mahtan looked like he was about to make his way from there to Nerdanel’s studio, and she carefully hid her left hand with the new and beautiful reddish-yellow ring on it from his eyes. Slowly, she walked forward, tapping on her father’s shoulder, and jolting him out of whatever thoughts had kept him in his mind.

“Nerdanel,” he said softly, and she blushed, remembering the new name Fëanor had given her only moments before. The blush was answered by a pinkness in his cheeks, and Mahtan looked between them. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, Atar. There’s just something I - we - want to tell you,” she said, nudging Fëanor with her elbow.

The young smith walked forward, keeping his eyes on Mahtan’s, a challenge to see if he was truly willing to stand between their love. “I know you have seen me working on a ring these several months past, and today I used it to ask Nerdanel to be my wife.” He kept talking rapidly, scared enough to hear a “no” that he kept filling the space. “I have loved Nerdanel for years, and although we are both young, I believe that your daughter and I have one fëa that was torn apart at birth, and we now wish to unite it and bring it back together. She is the most intelligent elleth I have ever met, beautiful beyond words, and we share a great passion in both our crafting and each other. I ask your blessing on our marriage.”

Mahtan’s face looked neutral at first. “Have you spoken to your father?”

“Atar told me he would be pleased to have Nerdanel in his family, and he would treat her as a daughter.” This was high praise from Fëanor, who usually pretended his father had no daughters, and Mahtan certainly knew this.

“And you have some means to support yourself?”

“I was hoping to continue working here with you until my apprenticeship is done, and then open a small forge adjacent to yours, becoming business partners, if you consent. I am prepared to live in my father’s house.”

“Even with the others who live there?” Mahtan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I would prefer my own dwelling for the two of us, it is true, but I will not let my family conflicts ctop me from marrying Nerdanel. She is my family of choice, and I hope to wed her after the traditional betrothal period of a year. The feast would be sponsored by my father and take place in his house, and we would figure things out from there.” He took a deep breath. “Mahtan, I know I am young, and I am perhaps not the son-in-law you would want, but I love your daughter, and I am prepared to share everything I am with her.”

Mahtan was silent for another long moment. “Show me the ring, Nerdanel,” he said, and she thrust her hand forward nearly immediately.

“It has a heartbeat,” she said. “I can feel him inside it. It’s a tremendous piece showing his love for me and his great skill. I do desire to spend the rest of my eternal life with him, even knowing the complications his family may bring. We may both be outcasts, but we would be outcasts together, and we would bring each other strength.”

“It may not be the life I wished for you,” Mahtan finally said, “but I wish you both the greatest happiness, and I gladly give my blessing to this union. Fëanor, I will be proud to call you a son, as I have felt towards you for years, and Nerdanel, I wish you all happiness. And Fëanor, the ring is perfect, you were right to use the smaller hammer.”

Fëanor rushed forward and impulsively hugged Mahtan, the elder elf’s beard scraping along the top of his head. “I am so proud to call you my father by law,” he said. “I will have two fathers, each in their own splendid way. And it will be incredible to have a mother as well. I will respect you both as my own.”

“And I will respect your parents - your father, and your mother in the gardens of Lorien, and I will show due obedience to your stepmother, but I will support you and your claim above that of your father’s other sons.”

Hearing this only made Fëanor love Nerdanel more, and, forgetting that he stood in front of Mahtan, he drew an arm around her body and pulled her close to him, kissing her nose. “I will love you forever,” he said. “Nothing will ever come between us.”

“So,” Mahtan said, clearing his throat to remind them that he was still there, “you will take the traditional betrothal period of a year, and wed next fall? In Tirion, I assume, but I will be proud to assist with the planning, and I am sure my wife would be happy to help Lady Indis plan the specifics.”

“I would be honored to have my mother by law plan my wedding,” Fëanor said, leaving out all mention of Indis, but at least doing it courteously.

“Go on, then,” Mahtan said. “Fëanor, you may take the day off if you wish; your tests are not far away, and you will need time to practice.”

“My tests?”

“I will not see my daughter wed to an apprentice, and it is about time you take your proper place as a smith,” Mahtan said, and Fëanor felt his heart soar. How could so many things go right all in one day?

“I will do my best,” he said solemnly, with a small bow. His hand found its way into Nerdanel’s.

“And I will as well,” Nerdanel said. “I will have that sculpture finished, even if it takes me a dozen more tries to get the nose right.”

“What are you sculpting? Perhaps I could help,” Fëanor offered.

“Come and pose, for I am sculpting you,” she replied, and left the room with a cheeky grin.


End file.
